Disclaimer: Don't own don't sue, yadda, yadda, yadda, we know this drill by now peeps
Notes: Behold my lazy way of making backstory without really making it part of the story. Think of these like those pesky documents you tend to collect in video games that are used to add plot and in game information without making you watch fifty thousand cutscenes.
Recording session 001; Location: Prefect's Codex Labs, Director's Office
War, war, war, war, repeating and echoing in every cpu down here in the dark and stronger then any physical chain that Carbonslice could make. His talk about the destruction of home and the offlined bodies piled in the streets, the destruction of the crystal gardens and rumors of sparklings being upgraded too early to become soldiers. The horrors that he paints with slick words and the blank optic look of those recently brought in as they babble about how Primus has forsaken those above ground. Such shows and speeches keeping the masses huddled together and bowing at his very feet in overly exuberant displays of praise and gratitude for keeping them safe. Sickening in the way they smile brightly at a man who keeps them all prisoner in his own private toy box.
Oh, no one outright and says such, but the way things happen here shows it, a few words here some interest there and people are dancing to a tune he creates. The city of freedom from everything that made Cybertron a place to never want to return to, paradise free from restrictions and corruption of government, free of the coil that is to follow that which is called a Prime. As if it is the very title that has caused our end and not the fault of many. So many easily forgetting the Primes before Sentinel, forgetting Sentinel's rein before as a group a council was asked for. In greed wanting some of the power that the Prime's had and thus because it was what the masses wanted, the masses got it and caused this all to happen. Mechs and femmes that were not kept in check by such a thing as the Matrix, and thus clawed their way ever more into the glory that the Prime held, and the Prime could only watch because the council is what was wanted and not one lone ruler who would lay his own spark down for the good of Cybertron.
That's the downfall of free will though; we want and want even if what we want is bad for us.
That's the main reason most of us ended up down here, and not to escape the war. Cowards isn't what this place is about, oh no, Carbonslice just used that as an excuse. The perfect gimmick to sell his wares and collect all the little toys he could ever want. Scientists and engineers that felt constrained by the common decency of morals and respect for life, who just wanted to play and experiment to their hearts content and giving no regard to the specimen on the table as a fellow; merchants and artists that liked to cut corners for the best profit and didn't care what the buyer wanted so long as they forked over the credits. This place wasn't a paradise outside of those who were too weak and spineless to join the Decepticons, or too brutal and apathetic of life to be an autobot. Just like the nickname this place has gotten Prefect, a mockery of what was supposed to be perfect.
Though, I fell for that sham as well and didn't see things were not lined up correctly until it was far too late, and I was too much entrenched in this way of life.
But, somewhere in this scarred spark of mines I must still believe in redemption, something that started to wiggle and worm its way back into life after watching a set of clones I helped create survive and prosper down in the slums. Taking on individuality when other clone sets stagnated in being the same, and reaching out to a pair of younglings that probably had so many random bits of coding running through them a decent topside medic would probably crash at how any of them could be functional. Even as my curiosity and want to know the definite answer, the vices that brought me to this place as it were, itched to take them apart and see what made them strong when others like them had been weak and died. To prove or disprove the theory that the strange coding from those Vosnians that had been brought down once every couple of orns was the crux of this matter and what allowed some younglings to survive and others to not; when flung down into the darker areas of Prefect like so many unwanted toys of the rich.
That is where I should start in my explanation and penance.
The first time I saw a 'seeker', those agile flyers that seemed almost alien to the trained eye but lumped together with the Kaon and Sigma created flyers by most of the world, had started my itch to know. How they always outstripped any other flying type, no matter what was boasted, and how they remained insular and detached from the rest of Cybertron in their little country of Vos. They were so different from any other make and model that strutted around and acted as if their model was the superior one. Turning blind optics when those seekers displayed talents that other Cybertronians would cut their own servos off for, always blanketing it in war model quirks, and saying the glitches and other slight coding problems of the group destroyed any positive quality those Sigma abilities produced.
I though, even then when vying for a place in the Science Academy, saw differently. I saw the next step for all of Cybertron. Just like organic creatures evolve over time into a better and more perfected version to survive, I too saw the code and ways to evolve us as well. Not with silly hardware modifications and streamlined, yet still the same tired coding, but on a deeper level. A level that could even affect our very sparks if the data was correct. Seekers as a whole produced more sparklings in gestation process with a higher survival rate then the rest, even of other flyer models. All without the need of Vector Sigma to scramble coding in hopes of it lining up for a spark that would be extraordinary without being completely glitched. Their sheer individuality and dynamics that many other groups lacked showed that their coding had superiority over other coding.
Oh, I didn't fancy having everyone and their turbo pup flying in the sky by this. No, I believed the coding could be tweaked and modified to allow even those on the ground even a fraction of the strength displayed by the Seeker codes. Getting said codes was my greatest obstacle as one needed to extract it from a living mech, and most of the council with their sneering prejudice against war models had denied me the right to try. More out of fear then actual wish to protect those of Vos I believe as most of those creaky old models would have jumped at any chance to sever Vos from the surface of Cybertron, if they could and not have the entire nation of Vos out for their sparks. Though finding other means to find the code would have been easy, but the code was useless to my ideas if I couldn't play with it.
Drones were offered as a substitute by those who did see hope in my thesis, but a drone would never be able to utilize the coding I wished to twist and expand on, as it would be impossible to see if the spark based parts of the code would take and pass on to the next generation. How could I watch to see how it would mature and mutate when drones did not upgrade or go through processes that mechs and femmes do all the time? No, that was where I was told to quietly drop this want and find a 'safer' route of research. Because sparklings were to be cherished and loved just like everyone had been told since they were nestled against a chassis and listening to an adult's spark beat.
I had scoffed at such, my blind ignorance over the fact I had once been a sparkling as well, making me see those tiny clicking creatures as a waste of time. Actually, applauding the mech who managed to manipulate Vector Sigma the first time to create a spark ready for the final adult upgrade, instead of nurturing a helpless spark through several costly upgrades and chance of code degradation. That had given me the idea that I needed to twist myself into my goal without having angry creators trying to dismantle me, thus bringing me back to the obstacle of before. Getting my servos on those codes I had coveted for vorns. Especially during the time when the talk of a rebellion amongst the miner cities began to reach even our audios up here in Iacon. Watching the general stupidity of my fellows as they closed rank on anyone that was not like them, and in turn those they closed rank on did the same and were called on it by the hypocrites that had done it first. Taking my chances for what I wanted away from me as well.
Oh the little faction being lead by that miner had the potential to give me what I wanted, but the ones who flocked to his side would have dismantled me within a cycle just for the sport of it. I was never strong in the physical sense, having honed all my upgrades and modifications to that of the intellectual pursuit I would have been easy pickings for anyone who wanted what I had and had no qualms in taking it by force. So the fledgling thoughts of joining were shot before I had even made a move to do so, especially after watching the childish actions of the supposed third in command. So much potential at his disposal and the mech was obsessed with triple changers and doing exactly as Megatron wanted. Too entrenched in making weapons and not how to improve ourselves as a race that weapons would be only a second thought, their narrow view on what would win their little war disgusting.
This attitude I had gained about both factions was what put me in the sights of our dear…leader, and thus I was approached.
The moment it was mentioned I could get whatever I wanted if I had the credits to do so had me selling everything not needed for my goals, and following like a lost youngling the rest down into the dark little hole. Earning credits and contacts as I mingled and helped in building the cave into a proper city, cementing my spot in one of the better areas for my research. Actually having a flock of young aides who found my ideas superb and worth helping with, a heady tonic to my ego and self esteem as I managed to lay out the groundwork and theory for the first of many tests to happen. I had waited this long, and with my ideas so close now to bearing fruitful success it was hard to keep patience in check as I waited for the last pieces to fall into place.
And oh how they fell into place.
Within an orn of the first wave of skittish little neutrals who believed they were being protected and cared for down here in the dark was a small flock of seekers. Who had only come down to help settle a group of oddly made mechs and femmes into a part of the city. It had been fascinating to watch the way that the land based ones with sensor panels flaring up and out from backs like a sparkling might do to pretend to be a seeker, interacted with the true flyers with them. All nearly silent, but for odd chirps and whistles now and again as if speech was below them, even as the others thought they were slow or glitched for not speaking. I spent cycles watching and noting the interactions and taking notes, only acting on my original goal when it became clear the seekers were about to leave, the looks up towards the cavern ceiling and agitation showing to anyone with half a processor that they would not be comfortable here under the organic surface. Flexing their claws and flaring wings when ever one of Carbonslice's little pet lackeys attempted to…reason with the group to remain here. Bribes and threats ignored, and oh the brutal efficiency they showed when force was attempted against them.
That's when I acted and led them on a merry little treasure hunt for the way out. Citing how my research meant I had to send others up to the surface every now and again for supplies that this newly created city couldn't make as of yet. They agreed after a while when mentioning it could also be used to help bring more of their flightless kin here. That admission had nearly made my spark sing in joy, because once more that coding had naturally done, and by some odd quirk of an accident at that, what I intended to do to it to fit that of the rest of us who could not fly. It made my want to examine and evolve us that much stronger that it was then I lost the lost bit of compassion I may have held for the life of others.
I barely shuttered my optics in hesitation when I gave the orders and those Vosnians were tricked into stasis lock.
My descent spiraled from there, but for now this is all I can speak of in this place. The Hunters are walking about again and it won't be long before they start sniffing about here, bringing those parasites as well. Perhaps if I survive to my next hiding place I'll finish the tale to whatever unlucky soul has stumbled into this mortal made Pit and finds these audio disks.
End of recording…